Plans and Reservations
by gumcrunch
Summary: Ward supposedly had something planned when they touched ground in Verona- MAYWARD FIC, Pre S01E13: T.R.A.C.K.S.


**A/N Okay, apparently, this is what February 14th and an old Macy Gray album does to pure, innocently unassuming me. Sorry, I just had to make a happy MayWard story, even though it's set before a day that was ultimately sad. But, it's Valentines and everyone knows Valentines is about sap and cheese. So here's my contribution to sap and cheese. Hope you like it anyway, my fellow MayWard Berzerks :)  
**

* * *

_"Bus has begun descent. Fifteen minutes to land._"

Ward shifted his eyes from the laptop to his watch as the voice signed off from the intercom, and couldn't help a content smile from spreading across his lips. 1715 hours, Verona time.

_ 'Perfect. Absolutely perfect,_' he thought to himself, rubbing his palms together and positioning his fingers over the keyboard again.

"Eww! Porn!"

A distinctly shrill yelp caught him off-guard and he slammed the lid of his computer down, jumping up from his chair to find Skye holding her stomach, cackling uncontrollably behind him.

"I… I'm sorry…" she sputtered between laughs, pointing weakly at him. "I'm sorry… you should… see your face when you…" she lost her words in another fit of giggles.

Ward eased from his combat stance, the default one he assumed when taken by surprise, and exhaled loudly, pressing his lips together tight, as annoyance replaced the shock that jolted his veins. Tilting his head downward, he shut his eyes for a second to collect himself before returning his attention to Skye.

"What do you want?" he put his hands on his hips and cocked an eyebrow at her, feigning seriousness.

"I was joking. Geez, lighten up, I didn't see anything," Skye recoiled a bit, taking a half-step backward as Ward's formidable frame towered over her. "You're monstrously huge back was blocking the screen and—"

"Skye—"

"Alright, okay—AC sent me down here to get the passports and all those document… things… hotel reservations… whatever, crap we need for the undercover op and- so, do you have them?"

"Yeah, I got them right—," he turned around and retrieved a stack of envelopes from the insultingly small desk, each with a name label neatly stickered on the top right corner, "—here."

He thrust the thick bundle gently into Skye's awaiting arms and smirked at her with clear amusement as she huffed at the weight of it.

"You're falling behind on your strength workouts, kid. You need to shape up if you're gunning to take grown men with those flimsy arms."

"Oh, please," she brushed him off as she balanced the envelopes, hugging them to her chest. "I've had my own share of that action and you can't deny it. I am _good_."

Ward stared at her skeptically and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Plus, you can't deny my sneaking abilities are getting past yours, big boy," she looked at him matter-of-factly and made a start for the door, but not before one last retort. "And what are you doing, WikiTraveling Verona? What, you taking May out on a date or something? WikiTravel? Seriously?"

He clenched his jaw and shook his head at her. "Out."

Skye left his bunk, chuckling joyfully as he slid the door closed behind her. Reclaiming his place in front of his laptop, he cleaned his browser history and closed all open pages before slamming the lid on it once more. He tucked it snugly under his clothes in the dresser drawer and proceeded to change his clothes, allowing himself the same contented smile he had on earlier as he adjusted his shirt in front of the mirror.

'_Taking May out on a date_,' he tsked in his head, '_No, I'm not taking May out on a date._'

He put on his jacket and started with the buttons.

'_I'm just taking her out to eat, that's all_,' he ran his fingers through his hair lightly, tousling it up a bit. He didn't want to look too uptight. '_And then maybe a couple drinks after…_'

He examined himself one last time in front of the mirror.

'…_ and then some._'

"Hopefully," he whispered as the plane touched ground and he walked out of the room.

Bags, documents—he had prepared everything they would need for the op. There was only one thing left to do.

_Showtime._

* * *

"Oh, my word…" Simmons lost her words as she looked at the black Signature L Town Car parked outside the cargo bay. She rushed toward it eagerly, leaving all her bags for Coulson to carry, but with the intricately carved, gold finished urn securely wrapped in her arms.

"I was not expecting my _father _would be this flashy," she beamed at all of them.

Ward fidgeted uncomfortably from where he was standing. As excited as he was about Verona, he couldn't help feeling uncertain about the fact that they had to split up into different hotels for the night. Coulson assured him that it would be fine, that this was just an undercover op and nothing more. None of them would get hurt, they all had sufficient resources should a slight glitch in the plan occur, and the rest of the team is just a comm away from busting the door down and extracting whoever's in trouble to safety. Their hotels are also conveniently situated near each other so surveillance should be no problem. Still, he was not feeling a hundred percent about the entire thing. He _did _have plans for the night—plans he hoped would go accordingly—but he was almost sure those plans could still be executed even if the whole team was staying at the same place. They have, after all, done it that way more than once.

A pat on the back threw him out of his musing.

"It'll be fine, Ward," Coulson assured him with a knowing look and walked down the ramp toward Simmons, dragging a suitcase and a luggage trolley behind him.

He watched them get into the car, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly as an excited Skye and Fitz ran past him to get to their Vespa.

"Arrivederci, S.O.," Skye pressed a kiss on her index and middle fingers, and made a peace sign at Ward, smiling as she dashed out. "See you tomorrow!"

"Yea, see y—"

"Fitz," he blocked the scientist from exiting and looked at him sternly. "You will take care of the both of you, right?"

Fitz stared up at him, the most earnest expression mirrored in his eyes. "I will. I promise," he answered with full conviction.

Ward let him go with a nod and a small, appreciative smile. He trusted his team, and he took their word for all its worth. He felt a considerable weight be lifted off his chest as he saw Coulson and Simmons drive off, followed by Skye and Fitz—who seemed to be having too much fun just getting the scooter started. He was back in more cheerful spirits as they soon disappeared from his line of vision and he was left standing alone on the ramp, the sun setting on his right side.

Sighing contentedly, he fished out the keys for their—his and May's—rented Enzo Ferrari and toyed with them between his fingers as he waited for his accomplice to finish getting ready.

* * *

Ward held his breath, whispering a silent plea that May would like the suite he booked for them. Their entire trip had consisted of him pretty much struggling to keep his eyes on the road, as it was just too difficult peeling his eyes away from her 'casual' look, and failing to initiate any sort of conversation, while she sat without a single word on the passenger seat, thoroughly disinterested in the whole setup to begin with.

May looked stunning…ly different, he thought. Her hair was curled lightly at the ends and swept elegantly to the side, while her makeup was just the perfect shade between disarmingly gorgeous and delicately simple. She was wearing a beautiful red one shoulder evening dress to top it all off, he knew because he saw her going down the stairs in it. She looked so breathtaking…ly distinct from her usual specialist outfit.

It was all for effect though, he knew. They had to project the idea that they were an unfathomably rich item who had just gotten out of a terribly fabulous social function in the city, and they had to dress up for the part. May just put the evening gown on for good measure, she did not seem at all thrilled by the idea of gussying up. She had thrown on a thick black fur coat and pulled it safely around her since they got off the plane, as if she almost wanted to hide herself underneath.

The bellboy hurriedly placed their bags next to the divan in the living area, and grinned at them widely, expectant eyes probing through them. Ward pulled a one hundred dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to him without paying much attention, and watched May as she walked into the room, her face not showing any reaction whatsoever. The door clicked closed behind them just as May looked over her shoulder toward him, smirking.

"Too fancy for one night," she walked over to the open balcony and examined the city beneath, arms crossed over her chest.

"Part of the undercover op. Can't blame me," Ward shrugged, standing beside her and smiling.

"Hmm, just hope Coulson does not see the bill on the accounting record. That would _not _be good for you."

He wanted to tell her he took the payment for the room from his own check, but decided against it.

The view from their room was nothing short of amazing. The river twinkled playfully with orange lights smudging over the still, dark water. They could see the nearby piazza, and the scurrying people that had their own little worlds in every one of its corners. Statues, fountains, and beautifully designed little churches dotted the quaint city, as the night slowly came to life.

Ward sighed happily, before he realized May was no longer by his side. He looked at his watch. 1930 hours. If he asked her now, they would still be moving according to plan. They could maybe even squeeze in a stroll on the bridge _and _have enough time for a good night's sleep. They had a very early morning call tomorrow for the train after all.

He stalked after her, searching the rooms one by one. She was right, this suite may be too big for one night.

"May?" he found her putting on a tank top in the spare bedroom, her evening dress haphazardly thrown on the recliner by the bed. "Hey, what are you doing?"

She pulled on a pair of black pajamas and a black sweater, and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it out as she walked over to the minibar.

"I'm going to go over the train plan and the track routes. Get some paperwork done while it's still early," she took out a bottle of Corona and popped the cap off, walking over to the recliner.

"But… but, you've already gone through the plan a hundred times and… Coulson's not… requiring paperwork to be filed until next week," he braved the indifferent look she was staring at him with.

"I don't want to waste my time sitting around. We're not on vacation, Ward, we're here for work. So, I'm working," she grabbed a bag, unzipped it, and shuffled the contents inside. "Besides, it's not like you have anything planned for us to do," she said as she pulled out an envelope and dropped it on her lap.

'_Actually, I do_,' the words popped in his mind as an automatic response to her.

"Excuse me?" the question and the inquiring expression on her face had him wondering if he had been thinking aloud all this time.

Ward cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Actually, er—I was thinking we could go out, get some er—dinner, maybe… drinks after…" if his cheeks had been burning, it was still not equal to how much he was twisting inside. He felt like a huge mound of jell-o as she stared at him, seemingly unimpressed. "I made reservations at—"

"Reservations? More reservations?" she eyed him in disbelief. "Look, I don't know what is going on with you, Ward, but SHIELD is not your bank account. You can't keep taking out money like this and not expect to be questioned. You of all people should know that."

"No, it's not what you're think—"

"We're not on holiday. And what we have tomorrow is a mission, not a game."

"I know, I know! It's just—"

"Then wrap your brain around that and stop with this nonsense!" she turned away from him coldly, slamming the door in his face.

Ward let out a huff and rested his head against the door.

'_So much for that plan,_' he grumbled inaudibly, embarrassed beyond all scales of embarrassment. He clenched his jaw as he cast an irritated, disappointed look at the city beneath the balcony. All the excitement he had for Verona had disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Ward stirred from his sleep as a soft knock came on the door. He was sprawled on the master bed, lying on his stomach with his suit still on. He squinted into the dim light of the bedside lamp and looked at his watch. 2218 hours. He put a hand on his stomach and dragged it across, groaning as he felt it rumble underneath his palm. He may not have had an appetite, but that didn't mean he wasn't hungry either. The knock sounded again, and he grumbled softly as he lifted himself up off the bed and stumbled to the door.

"Ward," May stood almost rigidly in front of him. "Are you alright?"

He ran a hand through his hair and squinted at her. "Yeah, I'm fine."

May tried to hide her fidgeting, but ultimately cast her eyes down as she started to speak.

"I er—I'm sorry for… snapping at you. I was… not in a very good mood so er—I'm… sorry."

Ward couldn't help smiling at the sight of her. Her shy honesty was so endearingly out of character, he had no other choice but to take it for all that it was.

"It's fine. It's okay," he coaxed her to look up and face him. "Don't worry about it."

"It's just… I'm not comfortable with the way this mission is set up, you know. Undercover work is such… it's an indulgence in the unnecessary," she exhaled loudly like she was breathing out her annoyance. "We could take them out without having to go through this entire… costume party, if we had a different plan."

Ward snickered, crossing his arms on his chest. "I thought you trusted Coulson."

"I do. Sometimes, we're just at different ends of the spectrum and I can't help but feel things could be done differently."

Ward opened his mouth to reply but May carried on, effectively shutting him up.

"But he _is _the head of this team…"

"Right," Ward interjected. "His decision, his plan."

They stared at each other for a moment, wondering what to say next, only for their silence to be cut suddenly by Ward's rumbling stomach. May looked at his sheepish face, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

"Good. Guess we can split the bill on pizza then."

* * *

A cold gust of wind blew through them, carrying the faint sound of a bell ringing in some nearby church tower. The two of them sat on the roof of the hotel overlooking the river and the city, Ward almost sprawled out on the deck and May hugging her knees to her chest, a pizza box with three more slices of cheap Quattro Formaggi keeping them company, and a bottle of champagne being passed between their lips.

"So, tell me…" Ward paused for a moment to take a significantly big chomp off the pizza slice that was currently sopping his hand in very heavy, very creamy cheese. "Why do you… hate undercover?" he alternated between speaking and chewing.

May swallowed the last bite of her slice and squeezed on a napkin to get the crumbs out of her fingers.

"I just don't like pretending."

"Hmm…"

"I don't like having to say too many things to get the job done."

She took a swig at the champagne bottle and looked into the distance.

"I don't like lying…"

Ward nodded thoughtfully, contemplating her words.

"… and I don't like dressing up in fancy clothes either."

He cast an amused but disbelieving look toward her. "Why?"

She took another swig and snickered, setting the bottle down where he can reach it easily.

"That's a story for another day."

Ward took the bottle and gulped down a good amount, washing down the pizza and letting out a satisfied albeit courteously inaudible burp afterward.

"Well, I may not know the story about it but I can assure you, dressing up from time to time would do you no injustice whatsoever. _No, ma'am_."

May gave him a thoughtful look, the corners of her eyes slowly crinkling into what almost seemed like a secret smile, and his breath hitched in his throat as he saw her irises sparkle in the moonlight. She turned away from his gaze, still with that smile, and stared at the city below.

"On top of it all, I don't think my Italian's up to shape. I never even speak it."

Ward swallowed another gulp of champagne before setting down the near-empty bottle.

"Okay, how about an exercise then? _Come sta_?"

"How are you," she replied without looking at him, suddenly assuming a serious expression as she readied herself for more questions.

"_Andiamo_?"

"Let's go."

"_Sarebbe il mio piacere_?"

"It would be my pleasure."

"_Abbiamo pistole_?"

"We have guns," she smiled slightly.

"_Per favore_?"

"Please."

"_Presta attenzione_?"

"Pay attention."

"_Ti amo_?"

May was almost about to speak when she realized the words she would be saying. She eyed Ward with a raised eyebrow.

"Just testing your oral comprehension skills, that's all," he chuckled.

She did not see the look on his face when she dismissed him with an audible laugh, too. He hid himself well, he thought.

"I'm sorry for ruining your excitement over Verona," she said after a good long pause between them.

Ward took a moment before he answered her. He hugged his knees to his chest and spoke thoughtfully as he stared into the sky.

"My grandparents met here. Always told me it was the most romantic city in the world."

He shrugged and chuckled to himself. "Thought I could figure out what was so romantic about it tonight."

May bit her lip guiltily and hid her face from him.

"Hey, I already said don't worry about it, okay?" he put one arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. He didn't know how she would take it, but for some reason, he wanted to be daring with her, at least for tonight.

From down the street, a melodic tune rose up from a violin being played to a couple holding hands and gazing at each other lovingly as they sat on one of the tables outside. A young lanky young man with an innocent face, decked out in a tux and holding a rose, began his serenade with a heart-melting hum that soon formed beautifully sweet, unfamiliar words melting into the sound of the air, music that seeped from his heart into theirs.

May stared at them, her expression unreadable, but all the same accepting, of the scene she was watching below. Ward inhaled, readying himself for rejection. He wanted to try, and he was going to anyway.

"Melinda," he said her name almost like a whisper, and for the briefest of seconds, he lost his train of thought when she shifted her eyes to him.

"Melinda, would you like to dance with me?"

She looked at him and it almost felt like an eternity waiting for her answer. She sucked in a breath, not breaking her gaze from his hopeful eyes, and shook her head.

"No."

His heart wanted to jump out of his chest and shatter before him in a million pieces. He was about to turn away when he felt her hand on his, lightly holding onto his fingers.

"Don't go," she raised his hand and looked at the watch on his wrist. "0115, a little less than four to call time."

She smiled at him with her eyes again and he could feel him losing grip of his senses. In a good way.

"Stay?"

She didn't need to ask twice.

It was everything he needed to figure out what his grandparents used to say. On the roof of a hotel overlooking the city and the river, with an empty box of pizza and an empty bottle of champagne, he watched the woman who made his heart beat sitting beside him, the lights of Verona shining in her eyes.


End file.
